Choatically Yours, Cold Air
by Greysplatter
Summary: Rain just won't stop now. Ms. Chaos is a teacher who loaths her students, betrayed by a businessman. The young teacher goes into hiding; now she is caught up in a mess of the Mafia, Controversy, conspiracy, and sexual harrasment from her really bratty student. A vulpix can't get a break. M for detailed slaughters.
1. Chapter Zero: Hide

Boredom. Everyone is attacked by it, yet it is something everyone loves. The feeling of being able to do something, but not fairly interested in doing that certain activity. Or any at all. It is like a two way drug that can only be cured by a shadow of interest in anything. The need to not do anything is strong, but the cries of boring feelings sound out the growing problems of everything around you.

Yet you are still bored enough to act like you care. Lack of attention left your regine fragmented, and you just simply watched it happen like nothing. You were too bored to pad up your senses, just watch your regine get stomped, smashed, and struck because you were thinking on doing something completely different because this topic in Math Class was too boring.

To get into more definition; there are three types of boredom, all of which involve problems of engagement ofattention. These include times when we are prevented from engaging in wanted activity, when we are forced to engage in unwanted activity, or when we are simply unable for no apparent reason to maintain engagement in any activity or spectacle. Boredom proneness is a tendency to experience boredom of all types. This is typically assessed by the Boredom Proneness Scale.

Recent research has found that boredom proneness is clearly and consistently associated with failures of attention. Boredom and its proneness are both theoretically and empirically linked to depression and similar symptoms. Nonetheless, boredom proneness has been found to be as strongly correlated with attentional lapses as with depression. Although boredom is often viewed as a trivial and mild irritant, proneness to boredom has been linked to a very diverse range of possible psychological, physical, educational, and social problems.

Normally this isn't a problem for people selfpiting, feeding their resentment from those around them or from their lack of empathy for the rest. Those who struggled and failed because they didn't have the right tools, they pushed too hard and burnt out, those who had the misfortune of a one bad judgement call. Something that was just too far out of reach, like Mother's cookie vase. No help from anyone and they fought in vain. Left out in the cold like twigs, turning to thievery and cannibalism to survive. Maybe not the last one, but you understand right?

So why am I on the streets? Maybe because I was one of the misfortunes, failing to scramble enough Pokecoin to pay my rent? Maybe it was the fact that killing that Rattata who broke in my house left me depressed, made me not want to do my job? Or was it because I am young and naive, that I was too eager to hope for a better career?

No.

This is my fault. I asked for more than I already had and paid for it, miserably cheated by the rules of my contract and simply lost everything. I lose my employment as a teacher, my house, the purse in my bag, my bag, _everything! _

Even my friends ditched me in a hurry, found out I was being evicted and they bailed like jail. Funny, last thing I remembered is that I known them since Cubhood. Yet they still leave me to die like a rabid, self destructive Voltorb. The only difference, once again, is that I won't be taking anyone down with me.

Well screw them, I can survive the streets myself.

So why do I feel like it isn't my fault? This is part of the Seven Stages of Grief surly, but am I really stuck on denial, or shock? I don't want to be angry or depressed, but it happens. I won't escape it, it will come to me like a hyperbeam. The difference is I can't feel this one, the freezing rain left my shocked body drenched and cold. Rain seemed to never stop all of a sudden, the water Pokémon always make sure that we aren't flooding. So what is the deal with the rain?

I can't escape the rain in a cardboard box, I need to scuffle up a job. I need to get paid, have a steady job to afford a cheap apartment... I need a plan... How do I get out of poverty? I need the most foolproof plan I could ever come up with.

"Hey, Chaos!" I heard my name, I took a look behind me to find a Fennekin under a worn out umbrella. "I found what you were looking for!"

Doge, my trustworthy friend from the shelter, was a fiercely loyal guy. Doge was the only Pokémon to not try to kill, molest, or anything unfriendly, in fact he shared the same picture when we were kids. Instead of being cheated to the road, Doge was thrown out of his house by his drunken were always hoping we were together, but once they found out about the Zorau he was dating. They shunned him and me. He's like a brother to me,

So I plan on getting him out of the streets too.

"Great job," I grumbled, yawning. I noticed he was just standing there with the umbrella, wagging his tail obediently. Jeez... "What? Did you think I asked you for a umbrella just to sit there getting soaked?"

"Sorry," the Fennekin paced beside me and poppsd open the umbrella. "I had to go through hell finding this..."

"Are you hurt?" I asked, looking at him.

"You worry too much," he teased flicking his tail. "I am a level thirty-five!"

"In a level fourty town," I rolled my eyes, sighing.

For the next few moments we just stared at the opening town, our corner could only do so much for visual pleasure or pity. Our apparal didn't help our case any more, I wore a black beanie with black thin framed glasses. Doge was wearing a bandage on his forehead, his ear looked like a Rattata took a bitw out of it. Nasty but I am a teacher; not a nurse.

"Chaos..." I heard the Fennekin speak once more, "What will you do?"

"Sorry?" I was simply confused by his question.

"What will you do when you get out of poverty?"

"I need a job before we can start all of that,"

"We?"

"I will not let you stay here!"

"Sorry... But I don't want to be a burde…"

"You are _not _ staying here in the corner, we are going to make it through together."

Somehow.

* * *

Hunger; the physical sensation of hunger is related to contractions of the stomach muscles. These contractions—sometimes called hunger pangs once they become severe—are believed to be triggered by high concentrations of the hormone Ghrelin. The hormones Peptide YY and Leptin can have an opposite effect on the appetite, causing the sensation of being full. Ghrelin can be released if blood sugar levels get low—a condition that can result from long periods without eating. Stomach contractions from hunger can be especially severe and painful in children and young adults.

Hunger pangs can be made worse by irregular meals. People who can't afford to eat more than once a day sometimes refuse one-off additional meals, because if they don't eat at around the same time on the next few days, they may suffer extra severe hunger pangs.

Older people may feel less violent stomach contractions when they get hungry, but still suffer the secondary effects resulting from low food intake: these include weakness, irritability and decreased concentration. Prolonged lack of adequate nutrition also causes increased susceptibility to disease and reduced ability for the body to self heal.

That is the definition of hunger, it hurts to know that. The pain of it is almost unbearable, like spikes shooting up the stomach. The pain can't be cured by just waiting around, watching my ribs peek through my skin. I need a source of steady food, enough for me and Doge. It isn't a problem during rainy seasons, it can feed us. The Oran Berry Bush is enough to fill for the easy months. The hard months is a different story. Like this one for example.

It won't stop raining, and I am serious.

Our fire attacks are reduced by half, meaning Doge and I have to resort to petty basic attacks. Will-o-Whisp, flamethrower, tackle, quick attack.

The darn rain seems to drown our plant. Meaning no food unless we start lowering ourselves to just start stealing, who knows... I might just if I continue to starve. Blimey, I never thought I would say that... I opened my eyes to find the pleasant feel of a rainy of the morning. Boy that was a great sight to wake up too once more. Another dreamless night.

I heaved myself up and stretched tiredly, my stomach growled miserably. I noticed that Doge was still asleep, I will tell him later. We can't stay in the city; we'll starve out here. I twitched my reddish ears and yawned the tiredness out of my system. I took a step towards the outside to find my path blocked by a Tysplosion.

I know him too well.

"Chaos," he apprehended me, "You are not dodging Mr. Vogel any longer."

"My contract with him was terminated," I retorted, swishing hair out of my eyes with a paw. "It was one of the last things to go."

"Not for his second article!" The tysplosion reminded. What second article.

"Remimd me, what is the second article?"

"You will spend another full twelve months teaching his next of heir,"

"No, not the little brat. Find someone else." I growled, "The Zororak can find some other poor female to drive to the ground."

"You speak like you have a choice, Chaos, Mr. Vogel has recently gotten involved with the Mafia now. You now educate Mafia students so they are not fools." Tysplosion grunted, "I can kill you if you want!"

"How does your flank feel?" I began, "Because you and Mr. Vogel are fucked!" I growled… I don't need this job anyways. And the Mafia? Idiots.

I took a minute to reconsider.

"I wish to meet Mr. Vogel about Contract Conflictions and Rights. Conditions if you will" I demanded, "Then I will work, effective Immediately. And so will my assistant, Doge."

He doesn't accept this, then I would rather Tysploion kill me.


	2. Chapter 1: Hope

**If this chapter seems... Off. Blaim my phone.**

**Thanks to Wikipedia for the information!**

* * *

Season One: Break Bad to Break Even

* * *

**_Chapter One: Hope_**

Dr. (Mr.) Mime Fredrickson argues that hope comes into its own when crisis looms, opening us to new creative possibilities. Frederickson argues that with great need comes an unusually wide range of ideas, as well as such positive emotions as happiness and joy, courage, and empowerment, drawn from four different areas of one's self: from a cognitive, psychological, social, or physical perspective.

Hopeful people are "like the little engine that could, [because] they keep telling themselves "I think I can, I think I can". Such positive thinking bears fruit when based on a realistic sense of optimism, not on a naive "false hope".

The psychologist C.R. Snivy linked hope to the existence of a goal, combined with a determined plan for reaching that goal: Alfred Adler had similarly argued for the centrality of goal-seeking in human psychology, as too had philosophical anthropoloigists like Ernst Bloch.

Snivy also stressed the link between hope and mental willpower, as well as the need for realistic perception of goals, arguing that the difference between hope and optimism was that the former included practical pathways to an improved future. He also considered that psychotherapy can help focus attention on one's goals, drawing ontacit knowledge of how to reach them.

That is what it is, but I can't relate to hope the same way I can tell you about it. If I do I would have stayed a highschool teacher and evolve into a Ninetails. I would have married and not get hit on at the bar everytime I have to show the bartender my I'd. I would have bite the gold and suffer, suffering from poorness only lasts so long.

Now I sit in the back of a limousine, between a Tysplosion and a Blastoise. They both wore suits and ties. I swore i saw a holster in one of the jackets. Doge was neatly seated on the floor staring at the mini buffet, I was pretty sure his stomach growled noisily. I taught him better than to take food from strangers, his manners sho-

"Go ahead," The Blastioise chuckled, "Eat, you won't get another chance to taste a perfect apple!" With that statement said, Doge rushed in to smash his mouth over the various places of food. He ate about five apples before diving into the next plate of perfect apples.

The Fennekin's manners flew out of the luxurious limousine, his red pupils dilatated of the low lighting. His face read europhobic pleasure from having food in his stomach, He knows the risk of that (He starved and now toms of food!) Yet the thought of never having food again donned his brain, so his neurological pattern in his brain isn't like that of a pet.

I sighed at him, he is so at bliss right now. I wish I could just be happy for him, but quite frankly I can't. In fact I am dragging him into this mess without permission, any way to cancel guilt in my new 'Second Article'? I can't ditch him if I wanted to, he follows me around like a baby Lilipup brother.

Okay let's review.

My contract that damned me, I am still signed, I become homeless, change my name, get found, now on a car ride back to the same Zourak that have condemned me to suffering. To the same private institution that have been bending me over and ripping out my tails and reattachining to my eyelids, migraines from the constant questions of my age, many sent to the clinic because they became so zealous to 'brush' under my tails.

Because I am a female. Would anything be different if I was a male, and homosexual? Would I be more than a vulnerable 'Mama' to my old students, to be more specific; would I be more than the cause of Sexual Harassment and Sexual Assault? (Luckily my virginity's been intact) Would I be so ready to jump on a Quilava because I would be desperate in a estrus cycle, clouding my judgement?

The answer would be no, but I can wish right? Ms. Chaos isn't your eye candy, nor is she a needy slut because July came around? (June is the actual strus sequence for Fire Types!) That I must satisfy to be cured of my need, that I will give in to temptation?

Where can I find a cruddy Firestone? Espically when you are still signed to the same guy who you worked for, the same businesseman who cheated me to the ground to teach college students Psychology? Not enough sexy Vulpixes who actually study that, right?

Those Firestone's always seem to disappear after I don't need them, maybe being feet taller than them they can ease off the sexual tensions they always try to start (then lie after I point it out, disgusted) with me. They don't seem to understand that I don't care about money; maybe becoming a Ninetails would solve that shooting a Will-O-Whisp at them when they even comment on the base of my tails.

Then again some Pokémon are into that, and that they would be just turned on more as I teach a roomful of Twenty year olds who act like they are in the Seventh Grade. I am not even Twenty-Two and yet they act like I am a Sixteen year old with raging hormones, and that certain thought disturbs me. More reasons to loathe my students who want me to bend over.

Espically the son of my employer, despicably unashamed of his sexualized attraction towards me. A Zoura, this son has slept with his father's entire female staff; rumor is going around that he screwed some males over there as well... His name is Lander Silk, or Lewis, or Luis. That is only what I know, his name was probably changed by the Mafia now.

What Lander did was, he actually believed we were happily in loved. And would accuse me of adultery when I get hit on by the men at the bar, he would sneak a kiss on my lips every time it was possible, Lander would try and seduce me every time I would walk into my room (or mini mansion I should say!), then he started to get physical and tried to make me succumbed to Stockholm Syndrome and fall in love with him because of sympathy. Sympathy for what exactly?

Then, before I left, he proposed to me. He actually proposed to me like we were actually dating for the one out of three year course. Even after I turn him down, he still wears a wedding band on his blackish paw. The kid is so stubborn he snaps at me every time I don't have my 'ring' on. I will would roll my eyes and tell him I would rather eat a diamond whole, then wear one for him.

I was torn away from my thoughts at the sound of a grunt, a chuckle, and a burp. I looked up from the carpet to find a Fennekin surrounded by plates, almost as if it was a strange ritual. The Blastoise beside me was chuckling while the Tysplosion just looked on with discomfort. The Blastoise nudged the Tysplosion and gave one more laugh.

"Quite the appitiete huh, Tyler? I bet you Munchlax will enjoy cooking for him!" She

Huh, so the Blastoise was a female... Interesting. Not the very least, she either has a pretty thick shell or decided eyeliner wasn't the best choice for the operation of bringing me in. I see she is fairly proud of her job working the institution. She is practically fire and bullet proof, making fighting my way out next to impossible.

"Trust me, the Kitsune vill be a sausage before month is over!" Tyler vowed, twirling a applecore between his fingers

I never noticed the accent on the Tysplosion, it is really deep and rich with background information. So he must have grown up in Kalos, unlike Doge who was hatched in Kantos and raised in a broken home, Tyler must have been raised rough. Going by the way he stares at nothing hostile-like might indicate slight psychotic nature.

The female Blastoise however has a more… calmer demeanor to herself and probably other situations. The blue color in her eyes was oozing with calmness, and sincerity. I also noticed a somewhat playful glow in her face, so she looks like a playful mother. Is she a teacher or a nurse? Who knows. Maybe she is.

I pulled off my still soaked beanie and tossed it to the left, the damn heater was making me uncomfortably hot. The tatting of rain from the outside made the white noise that soothed my inflamed nerves, my heart going to the rythimic spatter of rain. Fast, unorganized, and lobbed, the outside was giving off a grey tone to the world.

I leaned back into the seat and attempted to block out everything else, how far did I run?

* * *

"Hey!" A voice rang through my head disorientated, like a gagged Muk with his mouth filled with a slushee. My vision was dark, nothing around me but a void. Hell, even my body is missing because I don't feel myself breathing. I feel like a camera suspended in midair, nothing but my vision. Light could be seen behind me, like I was the moon and I am on the wrong side of the sun.

At the corner of my nonexistant eye, a figure could have been seen. It was a grey kitsune, probably shorter with fluff around his neck. I tried to strain my neck, but my head won't move; as stated eairler I had no body to move anything. I can't even move my bloody view, the eyes bored into the back of my head made my adrenaline start to inject into my bloodstream.

Adrenaline triggers the fight or flight reflexes, okay... Let's be smart and just think rationally..

** Epinephrine **is a hormone and a neurotransmitter. Epinephrine and norepinephrine are two separate but related hormones secreted by the medulla of the adrenal glands. They are also produced at the ends of sympathetic nerve fibres, where they serve as chemical mediators for conveying the nerve impulses to effector organs.

The investigation of the pharmacology of epinephrine made a major contribution to the understanding of the autonomic system and the function of thesympathetic system. Epinephrine remains a useful medicine for several emergency indications.

This is despite its non-specific action on adrenoceptors and the subsequent development of multiple selective medicines that target subtypes of the word adrenaline is used in common parlance to denote increased activation of the sympathetic system associated with the energy and excitement of the fight-or-flight response.

The **Fight or Flight response... Uh..**

The reaction begins in the amygdala, which triggers a neural response in thehypothalamus. The initial reaction is followed by activation of the pituitary gland and secretion of the hormone ACTH. The adrenal gland is activated almost simultaneously and releases the neurotransmitter epinephrine.

The release of chemical messengers results in the production of the hormone cortisol, which increases blood pressure, blood sugar, and suppresses the immune system.[10] The initial response and subsequent reactions are triggered in an effort to create a boost of energy. This boost of energy is activated by epinephrine binding to liver cells and the subsequent production of glucose.

Additionally, the circulation of cortisol functions to turn fatty acids into available energy, which prepares muscles throughout the body for response. Catecholamine hormones, such as adrenaline (epinephrine) or noradrenaline (norepinephrine), facilitate immediate physical reactions associated with a preparation for violent muscular action.

**Fear** is an emotion induced by a threat perceived by living entities, which causes a change in brain and organ function and ultimately a change in behavior, such as running away, hiding or freezing from traumatic events. Fear may occur in response to a specific stimulus happening in the present, or to a future situation, which is perceived as risk to health or life, status, power, security, or in the case of humans wealth or anything held valuable.

The fear response arises from the perception ofdanger leading to confrontation with or escape from/avoiding the threat (also known as the fight-or-flight response), which in extreme cases of fear (horror and terror) can be a freeze response or paralysis.

In both Civil and Wild Pokémon fear is modulated by the process of cognition and learning. Thus fear is judged as rational or appropriate and irrational or inappropriate. An irrational fear is called a phobia.

Phobia... Do I have a phobia of being watched... What was it...uh... Ophthalmophobia; the fear of being watched. So I have a phobia of being watched, probably from having someone literally starring at my hindquarters for an entire year is justified?

"Maybe she isn't in her Spiritual Form..." A giggly voice rang out much clearer, like cotton was being torn out of my ears. I started to feel feeling come into my form; I felt tingling come from my heart to my brain paws. I instantly snapped around to find pillows ranging in colors, one Sylveon was laid down on his pink pillow.

"Hello Chaos!" The Sylveon smiled warmly, his flamboyant ribbons flowing in a invisible wind.

"Were am I?" I asked.

"I have no idea!" The Sylveon giggled, impishly. I noticed a sense of... Mischievous nature to him.

"Who are you?"

"I am your Hope!"


	3. Chapter 2: Who I am

**This is driving me crazy.**

**Before I get questions about Ms. Chaos's intelligence, let me explain in later chapters when this story arc gets into go.**

**Here are a few answers from PM messagrs.**

**1\. The rain is part of the Main Plot (MP) and will be explained later**

**2\. LEMONS ARE NOT IN THIS STORY (They will be in another story entirely)**

**3\. The story is based off of many things from different sources* mostly House M.D. The chapter here is the first Cryptic Dream delivered by her Personalities. This was heavily influenced by Hotline Miami were Jacket is haunted by Masks portraying different personalities and abilities.**

**4\. Chaos is Twenty-Two**

**5\. Unlike Dr. House, Chaos doesn't _hate_ all of her students. She is angered by the morality of her students, making her resent them entirely but not wishing they died.**

**6\. Chaos isn't a virgin. Blimey.**

**7\. Chaos is still a Vulpix.**

**Now if I get another stupid question, I will sew my eyelids to my fists and get into a boxing match with Rocky.**

**Once again, thanks to Wikipedia for information galore! Here if you haven't been living under a rock for the longest, they have a wide spread of information. So enjoy them and me.**

* * *

Season One: Break Bad to Break Even

* * *

_**I Am Who, I Say I Am**_

"Sorry that Intelligence isn't here at the moment!" Hope scoffed, messing with a yo-yo that metabolized out of nowhere. "Just like her to be late, normally I would get Anger on her; but I am sure we can wait a little longer"

The Sylveon was on his side, twirling his ribbons between his ears. The bored expression in his blue eyes seemed to dullen drastically, like if his eyes weren't dusted for years in a odd blue house; that haven't been touched in years. Boredom seemingly seeped through his blue eyes. He was so detectable, I could almost read his sigh coming.

Then he sighed.

I rolled my eyes and settled on my quaint, starry pillow. It was soft and plush, filled with what could be memory foam. Or maybe clouds, who knows? They could have plucked a Staraptor and stuffed it in a pillow the size of my entire body, like they expected the head of a Snorlax to fall at anytime. At least his head will be intact, I am still confused on how I went from scoffing at my associate's manners to waiting for Pokémon to inform me on the current situation.

"So why should he be late?" I asked, I placed my front paws in front of me. My right thigh squished between me and the plushy cushions that almost settled my irritation, I swore I felt a sense of calmness happen to overcome me, like I was going to fall asleep. I yawned and stretched, I took another look at the Sylveon and he was... playing on a Gameboy...

"I dunno, Oh and Intelligence is a girl!" Sylveon corrected, not even taking one glancenaway from his eletronic device...I swear this Sylveon is a homosexual. Psychology was one of the first disciplines to study a homosexual orientation as a discrete phenomenon.

The first attempts to classify homosexuality as a disease were made by the fledgling Kantopean sexologist movement in the late 19th century. Long time ago, a noted sexologist, Named Krafft-Ebing listed homosexuality along with 200 other case studies of deviant sexual practices in his definitive work,_Psychopathia Sexualis_.

Krafft-Ebing proposed that homosexuality was caused by either "congenital [during birth] inversion" or an "acquired inversion".

In the last two decades of the 19th century, a different view began to predominate in medical and psychiatric circles, judging such behavior as indicative of a type of person with a defined and relatively stable sexual orientation. In the late 19th century and early 20th century, pathological models of homosexuality were standard.

Ever since the Equality Act, Pokémon never really stressed Straight-Style life. Homosexuality is almost expected on at least Two out of Ten Pokémon, espically in teenagers who experimented and seemed to like with their results. So could this Sylveon really be homosexual? I dare say yes! He is totally gay!

"Ugh! Why do _I _ have to sit on that gay-ass pillow? I would rather sit on a meatgrinder than sit on that!"

"Would you rather sit on the ground?"

"The pillows aren't gay! They are colors of the rainbow!"

"Oh... DidI pick the wrong colors? Sorry..."

"So why are we going to the meeting spot?"

"Hope is the baka who always finds a way to trick us into everything!"

"And I'm supposed to be the Embodiment of Evil..."

"You're only Exceptionally Evil!"

"Screw you, Hyper."

"Come on now, no need for that!

"First of all, ew. Second of all, we are here."

The owners of the voices finally came into view and I raises an eyebrow at the miscellaneous Pokémon. I sat up and I silently addressed their Pokémon species, so I can have a better idea on what I am dealing with here. I took notice that there was three Pokémon that were outlined in black, they were bIurry, so blurry I couldn't even make out the colors or the species!

"What took you so long?" Hope inquired, nuzzling what I assumed was Intelligence. So Hope and Intelligence are either siblings or they are mates which would probably explain the whole 'nuzzling' thing. I was stripped away from my thoughts to the sound of a kiss. So Hope and Intelligence were actually together? There goes my homosexuality theory about him...

_Dammit!_

In front of me were nine pillows, ranging in different colors and patterns. All varied in the size of the Pokémon before me, I felt overwelmed by the amount of Pokémon in front of me. Almost so that it almost clouded my rational thinking; claustrophobic feelings dropping over my neck like standing I'm front of a mouth-breathing Snorlax.

As the Miscellaneous Pokémon took their seats, directly in front of me was a Umbreon who I assumed was Intelligence. She was a pretty standerd Eeveelution, the difference being the curves of the female and her eyes were mismatched eyes, pericing purple. They made me feel more uncomfortable the more I looked into them. They were somewhat encrypted, like a file containing passwords.

"Chaos Safari..." Intelligence addressed, "I know you know my name... You met Hope." She nodded to her right

"This is your rage, we call him Anger..." To Intelligence's left was a Flareon, His eyes were burning crimson. A permanent look or distaste stained his face, like everyone around him was his archenemy; He even looked at _me_ like I was about to strike him. His eyes burned into me like my fur was made out of charcoal, even though I was a Fire Type; I was getting uncomfortably hot.

"This is your Axiety," To Anger's left was a very fidgety Lilipup, his eyes were a beautiful shade of emerald. A look from him gave a very uncomfortable tone to anything. It was like Death was looming over his shoulder, his breathing was quick and short. His tail wagged nervously, as if he was fearing what I would do if air so much as look away from him.

"Uh... I am your... Failure... Did I mess that up?" To Anxiety's left was a depressed looking Leafeon, her blue eyes almost made me feel sorrow for her. Her ears were down, her paws in a very insecure position. Like she was protecting her body in a very last attempt manner, her eyes dodged mine and I think she is on the verge of crying.

"No you didn't," I replied, wishing I could just hold her for a little bit. I looked at the last one at then left. Like I stated earlier, the blur was blacked. I tilted my head at it and I was met with green and blue eyes. The silhouette gave me a toothy smile that almoat made the fur on the back of my neck stand on edge and split. His eyes read like a lie being told to me.

"This is your Evil. He is still locked in the deep of your mind, so is Curiosity and Reward. It is up to you unlock them. I don't recommend unlocking your evil, but I can't stop you," Intelligence warned, "I gave you your prodigy, use it rationally. Because I can't take it back."

To the right of Intelligence was Hope, I already met the giggly Sylveon male. Seriously, is my hope really like that?

"This is your Devotion, we call her Love." To the right of Hope was a Dragontini, her eyes were motherly and patient. She was like a children nurse, but her eyes gave off a very mature shade of blue. She had a beautiful, but seemingly transparent turquoise eyes. So it is true, Love is blind? That didn't matter, the more I look at her. The warmer my chest feels, it was also making my cheeks feel warm; I was blushing. She literally gave me dopamine levels.

"Yes, she is blind." Intelligence sighed, "And mute."

Curiosity and Reward was still locked, both of them sharing a pillow. The dark silhouettes just sat there listening to my breathing, once again they were blurred to hell. I couldn't make out the species, which was very frustrating. I swore I saw Anger smile at my throbbing vein in forehead, I hissed at him and looked back at Intelligence.

"Where are we?" I asked, my gaze wavering to dodge her gaze.

"That is for you to decide," Hope answered, still playing on the Gameboy. I shot him a glare that made Anger flinch, The male took one look at my displeased look and he removed the cartridge and handed me the device reluctantly. I placed it behind my pillow and looked at Intelligence for a translation.

_"Yes it is.._" Corrected Intelligence.

"So I am in a void?"

"Limbo, Purgatory, The Void, Hell, and some other cliches!" Anger groaned, "Does it really matter?"

So was the final one, in fact this last pillow was missing a Pokémon. I looked to Intilligence for clearance and she shrugged. As if her guess was as good as mine, I guess it could be after all. She is my Intelligence. The Umbreon shook her head and stood up.

"Look at my face we met before..."

I wanted to speak, but it was like my lungs suddenly snapped shut. Intelligence's rings started to glow a violent shade of amber, she raised my head and she grimances. I looked at the other Pokémon but only Hope and Anger remained. The others were missing, like they suddenly turned into a mist.

_"How much do you love money?"_

_"Do you like hurting other Pokémon?" Anger inquired_

_"Who is leaving messages on your phone?" Hope gave the second question._

_"Where are you right now?" Intelligence asked _

_"Why are we having this conversation?" She finished._

* * *

"Wake up," a voice demanded, to which I obliged, not even listening. I yawned and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, I shook my head and looked outside to she... Guess what? More rain, I noticed we were at a gas station and they brought out handcuffs. The Blastiose grunted, and I placed my paws in front of me.

"You want anything?" The Blastoise wondered

Strawberry Moomoo milk," I replied, still tired. I looked at the Tysplosion and he gave me a coy griin, As if he thought of the best thing to say that will win the internet, or the look of the Spearow that ate the Picchu. I raised a eyebrow at him and he chuckled, he gave me a wink and opened his mouth.

"Are you sure l? You vill not last long, so skinny..."

"Bite me,"

"Bite yourself, you need it ve protein!" Terry left the Limousine, and left me with my thoughts.

This dream was messing with my emotions. It is making me, probably the only Firetype Pokémon in the universe to teach Psychology, to crumble into insanity. I feel failure for not being able to see that mystery figure, billions of questions and calculations ran through my brain like a bullet. Where am I? Who was that kitsune? Who are these Pokémon to me?

What was the whole deal about the questions? I have never hurt anyone! How much I love money? Yeah Pokedollars are amazing, but nothing to kill for! So why was I sent there? And why did they have a conversation like that? It makes no rational sense! The bloody Umbereon confused me, so did the questions. Those are the questions you ask a psychopath.

I am not one, however anyone sees it.


	4. Chapter 4: Wrong Number

**Bloody hell; this was really tough to write, because of injury. It's two hundred words shorter than normal and I apologies for that!**

**Enjoy~! Don't forget to review!**

* * *

Season One: Break Bad to Break Evil

* * *

**Wrong Number**

_How much do you like money?_

_Do you like hurting other Pokémon?_

_Who is leaving messages on your phone?_

_Where are you right now?_

_Why are we having this conversation?_

The dream haunted my thoughts, whipping my brain like a Pecha Berry branch. Each of those questions are the same questions you ask a serial killer, a arsonist, hitman; not a Highschool Psychology teacher! Those questions came out of the blue as soon as things got situated and serious. The best thing I could come up with is the Seven Sins of the Distortion World, maybe those can be the answer.

So let's break it down with the first question... How much do you like money? Well obviously Intelligence was asking am I greedy by nature? I may be famished and homeless, but I didn't resort to desperate measures to survive; but that doesn't mean I didn't snatch a purse because Doge went to bed without food three times in a row. Blimey now I can't stop thinking about the definition of Greed.

Greed, also known as avarice, cupidity, or covetousness, is the inordinate desire to possess wealth, goods, or objects of abstract value with the intention to keep it for one's self, far beyond the dictates of basic survival and comfort. It is applied to a markedly high desire for and pursuit of wealth, status, and power.

As a secular psychological concept, greed is, similarly, an inordinate desire to acquire or possess more than one needs. The degree of inordinance is related to the inability to control the reformulation of "wants" once desired "needs" are eliminated.

Erich Fromm described greed as "a bottomless pit which exhausts the person in an endless effort to satisfy the need without ever reaching satisfaction." It is typically used to criticize those who seek excessive material wealth, although it may apply to the need to feel more excessively moral, social, or otherwise better than someone else.

The purpose for greed, and any actions associated with it, is possibly to deprive others of potential means (perhaps, of basic survival and comfort) or future opportunities accordingly, or to obstruct them therefrom, as a measure of enhanced discretion via majority belongings-having and majority competitive advantage, thus insidious and tyrannical or otherwise having negative connotation.

Alternately, the purpose could be defense or counteraction from such dangerous, potential leveragein matters of questionable agreeability. A consequence of greedy activity may be inability to sustain any of the costs or burdens associated with that which has been or is being accumulated, leading to a backfire or destruction, whether of self or more generally. So, the level of "inordinance" of greed pertains to the amount of vanity,malice or burden associated with it.

So my best guess is that Intelligence was asking me if I was greedy, because nothing that I do ever makes me a loan Ekans.

My thoughts accompanied me, trying to ignore the simple melady playomg out. Buzzing filled my ears from the other side of the luxurious vehicle, the seat across from me vibrated vengefully. The ringtone was a simple melody, but the gentle tune was overthrown by the annoying buzzing that made the sleeping Fenekin mumble at it. The buzzing was relentless that it dragged me out of my brooding thoughts. The buzzing racked my brain cells and shook them.

The vibrations came from the seat directly in front of me, I gave a breath of indispensable uneasy, I swore the seat was further than before, it made my lungs snap shut in unseen fear. I could make my chest feel air because of the uncomfortable position I am in, the anxiety filling me to the brim; air disappeared from me as. I tilted over the anxiety and gulped down my heart, standing up with wavering courage

I lowered myself from the seat and checked the window in case they were coming back; when I saw I was in the clear, I went to the source of the vibration. The seat was shaking like it was a message chair, almost soothing as I hovered my paw over the seat. I looked for the source of it, and I dug my paw through the side of the seat. Passing through the crumbs and coins (Which I stashed), I finally felt the device.

It was a phone... A flip, disposal phone. It had a small screen on the hull of it and it read '_A__nswr__er it_' and it rang three more times. I caught my breath one more time before looking out the window once more. I picked up the phone and slowly lifted the hull. I shakily placed the device to my ear and cleared my throat. Okay I knew something was up when my paws started to shake. Intimidation, the bastard had that nature.

"H-hello?" My stuttering betrayed my feelings, my body quivering out of

"Hello," The calm voice on the other receiver replied, the voice sounded masculine and sleek. The voice dripping with a Italian accent, it was almost cold and warming at the same time; as if Liquid Nitrogen was at a boil. I took a breath and looked back outside, they still weren't back yet; good. Maybe this guy can help me... Then again I am now signed under the Mafia and they will kill me if I so much as muttered anything that relatively sounds like Help.

"They are not back yet," The voice continued.

"How do you know?" I asked, still looking out the window.

"I am watching," A simple answer that sent chills up my spine in anxiety, blimey this voice doesn't break nice. It destroys it!

"Can you see me?" I asked, hoping he can't.

"Yes, I can..." The voice made me want to cry out in fear.

"Don't worry, I am not going to hurt anyone provided you are cooperative..." That statement alone made my heart lurch forward and back into my heart in matter of minutes. Slowly the voice almost made me feel like crawling under the tire and let them burn out while I am still under the rubber tires. To top it off; stick my dead body into the car exhaust and let it rip one more time! Hold my beer!

"Okay... Okay..." My heart still pumping, my chest begins to hurt painfully. I swallowed bile back down my throat and took a deep shaky breath. Who is this Pokémon?!

"Now, calm down and stop hyperventilating. Tell me your name..." The voice demanded, no hint of gentleness in his voice. It made me jump quite frankly in shock on how empty and threatening his voice sounds. I started to notice a smaller detail that his voice had three different tones to it. He is masking his voice... I'd admire that if it wasn't for the fact of his ability of Intimidation; if I had the Clear Body ability I wouldn't sound like the damsel in distress.

"Safari... Chaos..."

"World famous Ms. Chaos?"

"I am not that famous... If I could be homeless..."

"Okay so you are warming up; My name is Warlock," The voice introduced, hmm why does that name sounds familiar? The matical voice of his was higher, a clear sign of impatience; what was he in a hurry for? In this rain so close to snowing, why would anyone ever be in a hurry to get moving? My guest is he should be in a apartment building with either a high-power percision rifle trained to my neck, or with binoculars.

"You probably have the wrong number..." I felt my heart race, I heard that name before. The infamous name of the assassin called Warmonger who was notorious for his hit on the Prime Minister, The Warturtle was sentenced to death but had a stay of hand long enough to escape. He went into hiding, still accepting hits. His current location is unknown and his method of payment is unorthodox.

"I am not the Warmonger..." The Voice still had no emotions, "However I have a job, not for the faint of heart." It didn't calm me down in the slightest. If it didn't make the throbbing in my heart any better, it sure did make me want to throw _up _my damn hunk of useless tissue I call a heart. The bloody Intimidation ability is going to give me a cardiac arrest before I can even hang up!

Wait a minute… Is he offering a hit?!

"A-a _job_?!" Everything else around me didn't matter, his voice made me want to throw up dry ice from my lungs. My ears felt like they went numb from just holding the disposible phone to my ear. My lungs snapped shut and I breathed rapidly; I had no experience in dealing with this kind of situation. I whimpered and looked back outside to find the two still in line to check out of the Gas Station.

"Calm down, those _figli di puttana ingenuo_ will get suspicious about your mood!" The voice snapped, making me jump. Warlock went from no emotional robot-like entity to a hostile monster on the tip of a Pokécoin, I looked out the window to find the two finally walking out and here is were I started to lower my panicking state. I have a excuse to hang up now, I can just destroy this phone and go on with my life; I don't know Warlock's real name. He has nothing against me.

"They're coming back!" I feigned a panic attack, "I gotta hang up!"

"Hide the phone in your hat (How did you...?!) Warlock said calmly, too calm for my liking! "Erase the Collar Sid, The digits won't work anymore. I'll touch again.."

He didn't even ask me if the damn thing was being recorded, or GPS tracked. It could have been a undercover sting operation! I have to destroy this phone; I can always steal another one, or if I survive this Second Article deal turnabout I will just simply buy another one! I took a look around he area to see any suspicious looking cars or vans, when I saw nothing but a cream-biege RV drive by, I took the phone by the top and bottom and snapped it in half.

It felt great destroying the device that allowed me to speak to that monster. The questions are for him; not me.


End file.
